Chapter 14 - MOTHER’S WHOLE LETTER
I read the entire letter again after enough time had passed that it no longer felt like an explosion.
The parts I had ignored were about Violetta.
Mother did not hate her.
Far from it.
Violetta has done more for me than anyone should have to do.
Do not punish her for being tired.
That sentence mattered.
Then:
I think she believes care gives her the right to decide what I can bear.
There.
Mother had seen the pattern before us.
Then:
Your father lets her because it makes him less afraid.
Also true.
Then me.
You let her because being told I rejected you is easier than risking that I might.
That line hurt worst.
Mother knew me.
I had accepted Violetta’s barriers because direct rejection frightened me.
Then Mara.
Tell Mara that I was wrong to call her temporary.
Nothing about Mara had been temporary.
She stayed through pregnancy.
Motherhood.
My grief after Mother died.
Then two years ago, a cerebral aneurysm killed Mara at thirty-one.
Sudden.
No warning.
Primrose was three.
I had buried two women by thirty.
That history made Violetta’s cruelty toward Primrose harder for me to separate from old resentment.
But it also created another danger.
I could turn Primrose into the final representative of everyone I had lost.
Paige Bennett warned me.
“Primrose is not your mother’s missed apology.”
“I know.”
“Not Mara’s continuation.”
“I know.”
“Not evidence that you were right about Violetta.”
“I know.”
She stared.
“Knowing is not practice.”
Annoying woman.
Correct.
So when Primrose asked whether she should read Grandma Elena’s letter someday, I did not say yes.
“When you’re older, if you want.”
“Why not now?”
“It’s mostly grown-up sadness.”
“I know sadness.”
“You do.”
“Then?”
“Still older.”
A boundary.
May you like
She disliked it.
Survived.
